


Your Scars For Mine

by DaniJayNel



Series: 100 YumiKuri Stories [89]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/F, Oneshot, day 01, injured, prompt 08, yumikuri, yuri fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6554821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniJayNel/pseuds/DaniJayNel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the rain, Historia finds a stranger, beaten and bleeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Scars For Mine

It was raining that night, when Historia decided to walk home later than usual despite the danger. She wasn’t worried as such, since she had no real regard for her own life anyway. If someone decided to harm her, then so be it. So she left work with her umbrella, heading through a field and then back alleys. The more distance she crossed the harder it started to rain, making Historia wonder if perhaps nature was urging her back. To not walk this path. She did anyway.

She reached her apartment building, but paused upon noticing a figure sprawled out on the floor. They were unconscious and soaked through with rain. Historia crouched down by the person, a finger reaching out to check for a pulse. There was one, a strong thundering heartbeat. The skin there was warm, too, despite the chill of the rain. Looking now, Historia noticed that it was a woman, and that her face was badly scraped, bruised and beaten. One eye looked swollen shut, and her nose was badly broken. Blood trickled out of one nostril, down her face and from a split lip. Her hands, which were laying close to her head, were bleeding profusely as well.

Without wondering on it, Historia pulled one long arm over her shoulder. She struggled immensely to get the tall woman even halfway up, since she was simply too heavy. Luckily when Historia dragged her around the building and into the light, her neighbour noticed and hurried to help.

“Just a friend,” Historia explained quickly. “She got into a bad fight.”

The neighbour nodded and helped Historia up to her apartment. Once inside, Historia thanked them and then dragged the stranger over to her couch. In the light and out of the rain, she could assess her injuries better.

The dark brown skin on the stranger’s forearms had finger-like cruises. As she had noticed earlier, the knuckles were split and bleeding, the skin all but ripped off. Her clothes were wrinkled and torn, as well. From a bit of skin peeking at the woman’s abdomen, Historia caught a flash of purple. She lifted her shirt and gasped. Large, blotchy bruises sat all around her stomach, going higher all the way to her ribs and chest.

Historia was tempted to call an ambulance but rather decided against it, since she didn’t know what this person was involved in. Instead, Historia went to her bathroom to retrieve some medical supplies to disinfect and then wrap the stranger’s wounds.

She tended to the broken knuckles first, bandaged the few cuts along her arms, and then cleaned all the wet blood from her face. She was handsome despite the damage. Her eye was the worst, and it took a good clean before Historia could actually see that she had freckles. She had a slight nick on her chin, and a foot patterned bruise along her jaw. Historia’s heart clenched when she was done, but there was nothing more she could really do. She left the stranger to wake on her own, and went into her room to shower and dress into something warm and dry. After that she made a coffee for herself, then took a seat in the lounge.

A single brown eye stared at her, blazing. Historia sucked in a breath.

“Where am I? Who are you?” the stranger snarled. She tried to sit up, but lost her breath and collapsed, gasping and clutching at her chest.

“My name is Historia. I found you in the alley next to my building. How are you feeling?”

The stranger relaxed, sighing. “Like I got my ass handed to me,” she growled. “Why did you drag me in here?”

Historia sipped calmly at her drink. “Why not? What’s your name, by the way?”

“Ymir,” she said tentatively. When she attempted to sit up again, she did so slowly and cautiously, clutching still at her chest. She leaned back against the couch, wincing in pain. The swelling of her eye seemed to be going down slightly, which was good. “What do you want out of me, then?”

Historia shrugged. “If you mean payment, then I don’t need one.”

“People don’t drag people out of alleyways for nothing in return.” Ymir groaned in pain again. “So what do you want?”

Frowning, Historia finished her drink. “Alright. I want you to undress.”

Ymir’s head lifted, and she regarded Historia with surprise.

“So you can dry and put clean clothes on,” she finished, grinning. “And then I want you to accept something to drink, and tell me what happened. That’s all the payment I need.”

Ymir regarded her for a long moment, then she nodded and stood. “Deal.” She slowly took her shirt off, revealing all her bruised skin. When she turned to take off her pants, Historia spotted long, jagged scars at her back. Once again, Historia’s heart clenched. She quietly dropped her cup on the coffee table, then stood and wrapped her arms around Ymir’s stomach from behind, mindful of her injuries.

Ymir straightened, sucking in a breath, and went rigid. “Look, sex wasn’t the deal.”

Historia had her forehead pressed to the skin between Ymir’s shoulder blades. It was warm there, though still wet. “No, I’m not asking for sex.” She pulled Ymir slightly against her. “But I’m sorry,” she breathed. “For everything you have suffered.”

Ymir inhaled. “You don’t even know me or my struggles.”

“But they are apparent on your skin. So I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t the one that needs to be.”

“But they won’t ever say it, will they?”

Finally Historia pulled away. She removed her shirt to reveal the long-healed gashes on her lower stomach and wrists. Ymir stared at them silently, then reached out to gently run her fingertip along the largest silver line running over Historia’s hip.

“I’m sorry too, then,” Ymir muttered.

“See?” Historia smiled. She covered Ymir’s hand with her own. “When I saw your scars, I was reminded of mine.” She pulled away completely to retrieve clean clothes for Ymir, ones that had belonged to an ex-girlfriend. Luckily they seemed to be the same size, so they were suitable. Ymir followed her to the bedroom, quiet and frowning. After Historia handed the clothes over, Ymir blocked the doorway, staring at her with intensity.

“When I tell you my story,” she started, swallowing. There was a deep waver in her voice, one that spoke of pain and sadness. Historia’s heart ached. “Tell me yours?”

Historia smiled. “Deal.” She held her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Ymir. And you’re welcome.”

For the first time, Ymir grinned back. “You too, Historia. And thanks. Really.”


End file.
